Artistically Drawn
by Ellaurora
Summary: Harry Potter is set to attend Hogwarts School of the Arts, but his first year of school is disrupted by a dangerous and mysterious blond...HP/DM SLASH. AU.
1. Part One

Title: Artistically Drawn

Author: ellaurora

Genres: AU, drama

Pairings: HP/DM

Rating: M

Warnings: language, violence, sexual situations (this is SLASH)

Summary: Harry Potter is set to attend Hogwarts School of the Arts, but his first year of school is disrupted by a dangerous and mysterious blond…

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of the characters. If I did, I probably wouldn't resort to fan fiction to get my kicks out :]**

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><p>AN: This is part one, mostly serving as a prologue (a very lengthy one at that). This story will mostly be un-betaed, but I might get one. So, sorry for any grammatical errors. I don't always pick all of them up. If you do notice anything big, leave it in a review and I will attempt to fix it. There will be HP/DM slash eventually, later down the road. This story is just for fun so who knows where it will go, though I have a pretty clear plot line in mind.

One last note, I must give a shout out to The Wykkyd's fan fic "Thirteenth to Fifth" where I got the idea of placing HP characters in an art school, however, my plot line will be completely different from hers as you will already be able to tell with the first chapter. Hope she doesn't mind too much! Check her story out if you haven't, it's pretty awesome!

Enjoy and review please!

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><p>Part One<p>

_Overature_

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

The sleeping boy lying atop the old rickety bed let out a groan as he rolled over towards the sound coming from the alarm clock on the bedside table. With the slap of his hand on the snooze button, the beeping ceased. With another groan, the boy rubbed his sleep filled eyes to better adjust to the morning sunlight streaming in through the lone window inside his room. He opened his eyes, squinting from the brightness.

Suddenly, a loud banging resonated from the door, shaking the tiny room and all of its contents.

"Oi! Boy", shouted the voice of a grouchy man from behind the door, "Get your lazy arse up and make us breakfast!"

The boy, still lying in the bed, let out another weary groan as ran a hand over his face, not yet fully awakened. "I'll be down in a second!" he called back in irritation.

"No, we want you down there NOW!" the man from the door yelled in fury. With one last loud pounding of his fist on the door, the man's footsteps could be heard retreating back downstairs.

Harry Potter let out a sigh as he flung the covers off of his stiff, tired body. He sat up, swinging his legs off the bed until his bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. Stifling a yawn, he reached his arms up and his legs out to stretch his sleep worn muscles, and at once, memories of an erotic dream the night before came running back to him. Harry smiled to himself, thinking of the blond in the previous night's dream and wishing he were real.

A shout of "BOY" from downstairs brought him back to reality and away from the beauty in his dreams. Standing up at last, Harry grabbed his glasses from his nightstand in order to take everything in clearly. The tiny bedroom he lived in was dull and lifeless. It only housed a creaking bed, a nightstand, an old, tarnished closet with a door falling off at the hinges, and a few sparse belongings. Dust coated the air and the entire room smelled as though it was rotting. It was obvious that the room belonged to someone unloved and neglected, as the room appeared to be in the same condition. After throwing on an old pair of jeans and a dirty t-shirt, Harry made his way downstairs to meet the growling man's demands.

Where Harry's bedroom appeared to be close to abandonment, the downstairs area of the house appeared to be in no such state. The hall, parlor, kitchen, and dining room were all furbished elegantly with the latest in modern furniture. Pictures of the family littered the walls and shelves, giving the house a personality and a sense of purpose.

Harry entered the kitchen seeing his aunt scurrying about and his uncle already sitting at the table, newspaper in hand.

"Well it's about time you got down here!" his Aunt Petunia exclaimed, roughly putting the two coffee mugs she held in her hand into the sink.

Uncle Vernon, still seated at the table, threw down his paper and glared at Harry. "I've been calling you to get you arse down here for over an hour now!" he growled, baring his teeth from underneath the gray moustache.

"It's only been five minutes not over an hour!" Harry bit back irritably.

"It doesn't matter what it is!" Aunt Petunia shrieked. "You're late and you have to make breakfast for Dudley's special day. We have to leave in an hour and Dudley's upstairs changing into his good suit. I want breakfast ready by the time he's down here."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked further into the kitchen to grab the eggs from the fridge. Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, and pancakes—Dudley's favorite breakfast meal. Cracking the eggs into the frying pan, Harry said scathingly, "Special day? It's only his school orientation! Though how he managed to get in at all is some miracle from the gods!"

"He got in on MERIT!" his fat uncle roared from where he still sat at the kitchen table. His fists scrunched around the newspaper in his hands and his face began to turn purple in rage, a temple bulging on his forehead.

"Merit," Harry scoffed, "Yeah if merit these days means you're as smart as a toothpick and graduated from high school with a C- average." Grabbing the spatula, he started to scramble the eggs in the frying pan, ignoring the appalled look on his aunt's face. "Tell me," he continued, taunting Vernon, "how much did you have to pay the president to let him into that school or how much black mail did you have to dangle over their heads to get them to admit Dudley to their university?"

Suddenly, the paper Vernon was clenching ripped in half as he flew out of his chair and towards Harry. Putting a chubby finger in Harry's smirking face, he yelled, seething, "That's enough out of you! If I hear one more word come out of your mouth, I'll stick you back in that cupboard we put you in when you were little for the rest of your god damn life!"

Harry only continued to smirk at his uncle's livid face. This was the part he enjoyed most- when his uncle would get so furious that he would scream and yell and make threats. Harry had once been afraid of this part of their banters, but now that he was older, he found them rather funny. Though his uncle was as fat as a whale, Harry could take him down in a second if he ever tried something. He was quite strong with a bit of sly cleverness. Harry thought that his uncle probably knew this and that was why he never did come after Harry anymore, only making threats he didn't intend to keep. Vernon's intimidation tactics no longer created fear in Harry as he couldn't be bullied by Vernon anymore.

"I'd look to see you try," Harry spat in his uncle's face, clutching a spatula in his right hand in case Vernon should try anything.

Realizing that his threat had not worked on Harry, Vernon stepped back and just scowled. "You're just jealous that he was admitted to a prestigious academic university and you were not."

"Oh yeah, prestigious," Harry mused sarcastically, turning back to scoop the scrambled eggs onto a plate. "I'd hate to burst your bubble Vernon, but that place is no Cambridge. It's about as close to a community college as you can get."

"Well at least it isn't the faggot school that you'll be attending," Vernon sneered, a malicious smirk coming to his face.

Harry's body went rigid and his veins started thrumming in anger. He turned around to face his leering uncle. "What did you say?" he growled.

Vernon's smirk only spread, for once having the upper hand in their bickering. "I said," he drawled, "that at least my son won't be going to a school for fags. A school for the arts? You might as well just call it a school to teach faggots how to whore themselves."

"You better take that back and go wash your mouth out Vernon," replied Harry calmly, biting back his anger, though his body was shaking and his knuckles white.

"Or what," Vernon leered, taking a step closer to Harry in a challenge.

"Or I'll wash it out for you." Harry too took a step toward his uncle, ignoring the squeaks and protests coming from his aunt behind him.

"I'd like to see you tr—"

Before Vernon could finish his statement, Harry had punched the fat man in the jaw, knocking him backwards as he screamed in agonizing rage. After steadying himself on his feet, Vernon took one look at Harry and screamed as he held his now broken jaw, "You'll fucking pay for this boy! I want you out of my house now!"

"Fine then," Harry said casually with a farewell smirk, "Enjoy your breakfast." And with that, he threw the plate of eggs to the floor and walked to the stairs to go and gather his trunk, ignoring Vernon's yells of pain and Petunia's weeps. It didn't matter to him that they threw him out of the house. They had before but always let him back in. They liked having him as their slave and Harry having nowhere else to go had stayed. They would probably allow him to stay this time too, but it didn't matter to Harry anymore. He was finally going to escape for good. He was leaving tomorrow for the university he would be spending the next four years and it no longer mattered whether the Dursley's threw him out of their house or not.

As soon as Harry got back to his room, he threw the remaining things into the trunk he already had packed and swept out, not even caring to look back at the prison room he had been locked in. Before he descended the stairs, he glanced back down the upstairs hallways and saw Dudley, his cousin, standing there open-mouthed.

"See ya Dudders!" he called back gleefully with a wink and the bounded down the stairs, dragging his trunk along with him, ignoring the still gaping expression of his cousin.

Before he could reach the door, Vernon had grabbed him from behind and pushed him up against the wall. "So you're really leaving this time, huh?" he snarled, his face still an ugly shade of purple and one side of his jaw significantly distorted.

"You know I am," Harry sneered back, pushing Vernon off of him all too easily and laughing inwardly at how the man recoiled.

"Well what are you waiting for? GO!" he barked, throwing his fists up into the air. "But if you ever come back onto this property again I'll skin you alive or call the police! You hear me?"

"Perfectly, uncle," Harry replied mockingly, his smirk beaming. With one final glare to his uncle that said 'I won', Harry opened the front door and walked outside, continuing down the street and not looking back. He couldn't stop the smile from overcoming his whole face.

It had taken eighteen years, but finally, Harry Potter was free of the Dursleys and Number 4 Privet Drive and he would never have to go back there again.

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><p>Dusk was starting to roll in and a late summer chill swept through with the breeze, but that didn't bother Harry. Nothing could ruin this day for him. As he jogged down the quiet street, blasting the music out of the mp3 player he had gotten from a friend, all different emotions coursed through him—excitement, anxiety, peace, worry, happiness, but most importantly, he felt alive. It was a new feeling, one he never felt before. He was no longer caged in a prison he was forced to be in ever since his parent's fatal car accident. He had escaped and now he was free to begin the next chapter of his life. All of this made him feel alive.<p>

Harry stopped as he came to the Little Whinging Park. Seeing a familiar body atop the rocks by the pond, he pulled the ear buds out of his ears and made his way over.

The crunching of his trainers on the ground alerted his friend of his arrival and he felt a smile emerge upon his face as he took in his friend's beaming face.

"Harry!" the young man said, his hazel eyes shining bright in greeting. He jumped down off the rocks and jogged over to meet his friend halfway, throwing his arms around him in a welcoming hug as soon as he was close enough. "I haven't seen you in a while," the young man said as he pulled away from Harry, "where've you been?"

Harry looked up into the face of his best friend Christian, admiring the way his tousled chestnut locks waved in the evening breeze and his eyes gleamed in the setting sun. "Oh, I've been busy packing and stuff, getting ready to leave," Harry replied casually, keeping a smile upon his face.

'That's right, you leave for that big, fancy school tomorrow," Christian replied cheerfully, "leaving the rest of us lazy bums here."

They began to make their way to the large rocks on the shore of the pond, each taking a seat on one. Harry chuckled at his friend's way with words and responded, "Oh, I'm sure you'll have a good time with the family business here."

"Oh yeah, it's gonna be a blast working in a factory all day," he joked with sarcasm, chuckling right along with Harry. "Say, you got any fags on you? I'm all out and I haven't had a chance to pick more up."

"Yeah, I got a pack right here," Harry said as he dug into his pockets, taking out the pack of cigarettes. Christian dug out his own lighter and lit both of them up.

"So, you excited for tomorrow and all that?" he asked, staring out over the large pond to the setting sun.

"Yeah, it's gonna be different, but I'm finally doing what I wanna do," Harry replied after taking a drag off his cigarette.

"You bet it will be," Christian agreed, running a hand through his messy hair. "But you'll have fun with all those yuppies singing, tap dancing, and reciting Shakespeare sonnets till you die or whatever it is that you do."

Harry laughed. "Actually, it's called acting, with a bit of singing. Or, theatre to be exact."

"Yeah that," Christian said sheepishly with a shake of his head, making Harry laugh harder. "Just think, you'll be a regular old nancy boy."

Harry continued to chuckle at his friend's humor. "I'll try not to become too flamboyant about it."

Now they were both laughing together, a routine that was common in their friendship. "Yeah, you better not!" Christian exclaimed through his chuckles.

Harry had known Christian since middle school and he soon became the first friend he ever had. After years of being teased and taunted by his peers, Christian had been the first person to ever stick up for Harry. After years of always sticking together, they became inseparable best friends, knowing each of each other's secrets. Harry had told Christian everything from the Dursley's treatment of him to his dreams of becoming an actor after seeing a stage production of _Hamlet_. Christian had been the one who helped him sneak out at night to see performances at the local theatre and eventually helping him land roles for various productions and recognizing Harry actually had a decent singing voice. If it weren't for Christian, Harry didn't know how he would be where he was now, attending one of the best academies in Europe for the arts.

Christian was also the first person Harry confronted with questions about his own sexuality. After entering high school, it didn't take Harry long to figure out that he was definitely gay. He tried intimacy with girls, but didn't feel anything when he kissed them or even looked at them. They were simply not appealing to him. Boys, on the other hand, drove Harry mad with desire and after a few experiments with Christian's encouragement, Harry had figured out he was gay and was content with it. He didn't try to hide it anymore, although he didn't make it known either. Harry had many liaisons and flings with boys, finding them all pleasurable, but none of them lasting relationships. Harry had even tried a few things with Christian, who was perfectly content with fumbling around with both sexes. A few nights of becoming too drunk or too high to do anything else but snog had resulted in just that. However, the two had remained friends more than anything else, allowing them to frequently joke around about Harry's sexuality.

Now, Harry glanced up at his smiling best friend and realized he didn't know what he would do without him. Christian had been his support system for so long, how would he be able to function in a place where self performance was everything and no one there to boost his confidence?

Overcome with a bit of sorrow, Harry put out his cigarette and stared into his friends hazel eyes, saying softly, "I'll come back you know."

"No, you won't," Christian replied quietly, forcing a small grin on his face as he put his own cigarette out, "You'll be too busy getting groomed and trained to become the next big star to even think about coming back here."

"I will," Harry urged, wanting his friend to believe that he would never forget him. "I'll come back over Christmas break and I'll be back for next summer."

"You wanna come back here to stay with your aunt and uncle on your holiday breaks?" Christian asked disbelievingly with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Harry started, "They kicked me out of the house. For good this time."

"Well that's great Harry," Christian scoffed, "I've been telling you to get out of the house for years! You could have come and lived with me."

"I know, but I didn't want to impose," Harry argued, "It wouldn't have been right for your family to be stuck with me."

Christian just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Well whatever, but the fact that you have no place to come back to is just another reason why you don't need to come back here."

"But I have you to come back to," Harry stated matter-of-factly, "and besides, I don't mind this town so much. I'll buy a place of my own."

Christian scowled. "With what money? You quit your job at the store a few weeks ago to go off to school and all that money you made is going towards your tuition."

Harry just shrugged and said, "I'll get another job while I'm living there, I mean for heaven's sakes, the school is in London! There should be plenty of work available."

"Yeah, whatever," Christian said gloomily, resting his head on his arms that were crossed over his bent kneecaps, glaring out at the pond.

Harry desperately didn't want to leave things on a bad note with him, not with the only person he cared about. "Listen, you're my best friend and you always will be," Harry started softly, laying a hand on his arm. He stared at the side of his friend's face, willing those hazel eyes to look back and meet his green ones. "I'll come back. I won't forget who I am because I'm going to some fancy school with lots of big shots and know-it-alls."

Christian seemed a bit more reassured and turned his head to meet his friends gaze. "You promise?"

"Of course I promise you dim whit!" Harry exclaimed loudly, throwing his hands up in the air in an attempt to restore the mood back to its lightheartedness.

"Blithering idiot, yourself!" Christian retorted, going along with Harry's teasing. "Say, where you staying tonight if your aunt and uncle kicked you out?"

Harry shrugged and replied coolly, "A cheap hotel next to the train station. I walked there this morning. It took me all damn day."

Again Christian shook his head and scoffed at him. Like many things, it was a repeating pattern between the two of them. "You could have just called me you know and I would have driven you."

"I know, but I didn't want to im-"

"I know, I know, impose," Christian interjected with a quick roll of the eyes. "You've been saying the same thing since the day I met you."

Harry smiled and said confidently, "Yup and it won't change!"

"I know it won't you stubborn git!"

Harry chuckled back, feeling the uneasiness left of their tense conversation a few minutes ago all drain away and disappear. "I should probably be going. It will take me about an hour to get back to the hotel and I have to catch an early train." The words fell out of his mouth, but he couldn't make himself follow through with them just yet. This would be this hardest thing; turning his back on his best friend to go become someone far superior to him.

Silence erupted between them and both of them felt it. Finally, Christian cleared his throat and said, "Yeah, you better get going then." With a sigh, he stood up on the rocks, holding a hand out to help Harry up to.

He sighed, knowing he had to face the inevitable. They had to say goodbye. "I'll write to you," he whispered, his voice filled with the hope that his friend would agree.

"You better," Christian demanded and Harry's face broke out into a toothy grin. "You have to let me know how you're doing there, whether they're all giving you a run for your money or if there's any decent blokes."

Harry laughed at the last part. "I will."

"Try not to fall in love with too many."

"I won't, don't worry," Harry confirmed. "It's not my intention to be chasing after other men while I'm there." He knew he wasn't interested in meeting someone to get involved with. He didn't think he'd have time for that. Still, one could hope.

"Well, I hope not. You're there to receive a good education," Christian said in his best imitation of their stern English teacher from last year, making Harry erupt in a fit of giggles.

After the laughs between the two of them subsided, Harry knew there was nothing left to say but goodbye. With a deep breath, he said sweetly, "Bye Christian, I'll miss you." After another deep breath to push away the tears that threatened to pour, he continued, "Thank you for everything you've done for me. I wouldn't be going to this school if it wasn't for you."

His friend shook his head in disbelief for umpteenth time that day. However, when he spoke, it was only gentle, kind words that came out. "No, you would have. You did it all yourself, I was just the chaperone." He paused like Harry had, seeming to swallow down his own tears as well. "Take care, Harry. Don't let your confidence fail or your dreams die. You have a gift, and not just in your natural voice. You're a pure blessing to this world Harry, so I want you to make the most of everything while you there, okay?"

Harry nodded before stepping up to wrap his arms around his one true friend in life, the one he would be leaving behind as he went to pursue bigger and better things. After letting go, Harry placed a chaste kiss to Christian's lips, letting them linger there for a few seconds longer than necessary. He would miss this—their closeness. Finally, he stepped away, giving his friend one last bright smile and then turning away in farewell.

He was about twenty feet away from the pond when he heard Christian's voice calling from behind, "Hey Harry! You come back here wearing tights and sparkles and I'll kill you!"

Harry laughed again to himself, thinking that it would be just like Christian to end on a humorous note rather than a sorrowful one. However, Harry couldn't turn around, for he knew if he did, he would go running back to his friend. Keeping the sorrow and emptiness out of his voice, Harry called back over his shoulder "I won't as long as you don't end up eloped to the next woman you pick up while you're half crocked!"

He could hear Christian's laughs erupt from behind him, and then a faint, "Bye Harry."

Indeed, it was goodbye for Harry. He didn't know if he would ever come back to this place to be with Christian again. Maybe he would get swept into the new life he would be living that he really would just forget all about him. Harry didn't think it was possible, but he didn't know. He didn't know anything of what lay ahead at the Hogwarts School of the Arts, but the prospect of it left him feeling invigorated, free, and above all, alive…

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><p><strong>Please review and let me know what you think! Or you can give me title ideas. I'm horrible at naming things as you can see. This one is lame, but everything else I thought of didn't work. I'll try to update when I can :)<strong>

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****16 days till Deathly Hallows Part 2! :)****


	2. Part Two: 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of it's characters. If I did, I wouldn't resort to fan fiction to get my kicks out. All belong to JK Rowling.**

A/N: This is the first chapter of part two, and there will be several more after. I was going to combine this chapter with the next, but the next will probably be about 5,000 words long without the 3300 this one is. I will try to post that one soon. Sorry if my descriptions of London are inaccurate in this chapter, but more so in later ones. I've never been there. I'm not sure if you can really take a train from Surrey to London, but I decided to roll with the idea anyways.

Thanks to all those who read last time! I got a total of 15 notifications that people have added this to their story alert which is more than I've ever gotten after one chapter, so thanks! Special thanks to SilverBlood7884 for reviewing!

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Enjoy!

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><p>Part Two: The Opening of the Curtains<p>

~1~

_Start of Something New_

Harry watched the world whizz by him as he sat on the express train, looking out the small window from his compartment. His eyes raked over the vast green countryside of Surrey they passed, committing it to memory before he arrived in the loud, industrialized city. He had only ever been to London once in his life when he was ten. Vernon's cousin had come in on the train from Scotland and he had brought the whole family with him, including Harry who they didn't trust enough to leave alone in the house. Harry hadn't seen much of the city that day, only the train station and the glimpses he caught outside the car windows, but he had been certain from that day on that he wanted to go back. He had only read and dreamed of the city life, but now he was ready to actually live it.

He tore his eyes away from the window, running a hand through his messy dark locks in an effort to smooth them down. No matter how many times he combed it down or how much gel he used, his hair would still find a way to stick up all over the place. It was rather frustrating and tiresome, but after eighteen years, Harry had gotten used to it. Besides, some men liked other men with messy hair, or so Harry told himself. At least Christian did…

_Christian_. At the thought of his friend's name, he felt the weight of anxiety roll in his gut. To say Harry was nervous would be an understatement. He was about as close to freaking out as one could be. He was off to a place he had only been to once in his life and where he knew no one. Not to mention he would be going to school with some of the top art students in the world, competing with them to fulfill his dream of becoming a successful and profound actor. It was all a lot of pressure for Harry and he only hoped he wouldn't crack. It would be a huge adjustment for him and he would have to work harder than he ever had in his life, even harder than when Vernon made him made him drag all the new furniture into the house as a young, weak child of eleven.

Harry felt the train begin to slow down beneath him and he looked out the window to see that they were slowly approaching King's Cross Station in London. With a deep calming breath, he began to gather his baggage together to depart from the train when it came to a full and complete stop.

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><p>After taking one step off the train, Harry took one look around the bustling train station and whispered to himself, "Well, here it goes. It's now or never."<p>

"Where to?" asked the rugged looking taxi driver crankily as he leaned out his car window outside of King's Cross Station.

"Hogwarts School of the Arts," replied Harry, trying to sound somewhat friendly to the grumpy man.

The man didn't seem to take notice of Harry's pleasant smile as he just brought his head back into the vehicle and barked, "Get in then."

Harry obeyed and soon they were off in the direction of the school under the warm, afternoon sunshine. Harry kept his gaze out the window, taking in all of the buildings, shops, signs, cars, and people. He couldn't wait to get out and start exploring the city himself. He hoped he would have a chance before classes started in a few days.

After a few minutes of silence in the taxi, the driver spoke up. "So, you a new student at this school?"

Harry brought his attention away from the window and to the man in the front seat. "Yeah, it's my first year."

Harry watched the back of his driver's head nod and listened as he continued on in conversation. "What major you taking up?"

"Theatre and acting," Harry replied politely, noticing how his driver now seemed a bit friendlier than when Harry first entered the car.

The man nodded again, his brown eyes glancing into the rearview mirror to meet Harry's. "Nice. You from around here?"

"Yeah, Surrey; I've lived there all my life."

"Ah, I know it well," the driver said with a smile, his eyes focused back on the road now, swerving through lanes of traffic. "I was raised there myself. What part you from?"

"Little Whinging," Harry answered, feeling at ease with the man, "just a small little town." It felt weird to communicate to someone else where he was from. He had never been out of Little Whinging. Usually he would be the one asking others where they had come from, ogling at all of their travels in envy.

"Sure, sure, I know it," the driver replied cheerfully while he pressed down on the brake pedal a little too hard that Harry was flung forward. " I've been there a few times. Never thought that someone from a place like that would be coming to a school like this."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked skeptically with narrowed eyes.

"I just mean that the students that go to this school come from all over—Japan, Australia, America, and all over Europe," he explained, using one of his hands to talk while the other rested on the wheel. "They're all pretty much established actors and artists or whatever, having performed in some of the best venues all over the world and attended some of the best schools." In the back seat, Harry nodded in agreement. He was told by his friends how successful some of his classmates already were. "You must have had pretty rich parents who enrolled you in those schools early on," the man commented thoughtfully.

"Not in the slightest, I'm afraid," Harry admitted with a slight grimace. If the driver only knew how he really grew up. If what he was saying was true, then it would seem like some miracle that Harry had actually gotten in at all and the prospect of that seemed to make his stomach do even more somersaults.

"Really?" the driver asked in disbelief. "Then if you don't mind me asking, how the hell did you get in? I hear they don't offer a lot of spots to locals."

"One of the admissions counselors of the school came to a play I was doing at a local theatre," Harry began after a moment's hesitation, though what did he really have to hide or be ashamed of. He would probably have to tell this same story over and over again to his fellow classmates. "They saw my age in the program and told me to apply to the school if I was interested in a career in theatre. I did and then a representative of the theatre department of the school came to my local theatre and asked me to audition with a soliloquy from a play and a song from a musical. I did both and they basically let me in on the basis that I had a lot of natural talent, despite my less than impressive experience."

"Wow, well that's mighty great for you," the man said in surprised amusement, "Seems as if you'll be getting your huge break!"

"I guess," Harry stuttered, "I mean, I hope so." It was hard for Harry to imagine himself ever living a life that would be full of such reward and what he wanted most. He almost didn't believe that it would ever come true. Surely there would be many people far more talented than him.

The taxi cab lapsed into silence again and Harry's green orbs drifted back to the window. He noticed that they had escaped much of the industrialized part of London and were heading down a much more peaceful and relaxed setting. The area around them seemed more like the countryside, obviously on the outskirts of London. They drove down cobblestone streets, past quaint little shops and restaurants.

At the end of the row of shops, the road began to curve until they were passing vast green hills, trees, and a lake. And then, the car began approaching a wrought iron gate, as tall as the oak trees on either side of it. The driver got out of the car to push a buzzard on the locked gates, and then suddenly, they began to open automatically as if by magic.

The driver got back into the car and started driving up a hill on a stone path, until finally they reached a giant medieval castle. It towered over the village down below and appeared as if it belonged in a King Arthur or fairy tale princess film rather than outside the capitol of England. Harry felt silly sitting inside the taxi, feeling as though he should be arriving in a horse-drawn carriage. As they neared the end of the driveway, the driver parked right next to the front stairwell, behind a couple of other luxurious cars and limousines.

"Well here you are," the taxi driver said cheerfully, turning around to meet a very intimidated Harry.

"Thanks," Harry managed to stutter, unable to take his eyes off the castle looming in front of him. Finally, he was able to move his stiff legs enough to get out of the car and unload his trunk and rucksack. He went around to the side of the car to hand the driver his payment.

"See you around kid," the man replied happily, accepting the money. He started the car and with a shout of 'good luck', he was off.

Harry turned to face the castle again, still gaping at it open mouthed. _What am I getting myself into_, he thought. He didn't know how he could ever fit in a place like this. He heard the words of his taxi driver repeated in his head, making his anxiety reach an all time high. He felt his stomach clench as if he were going to be sick from nerves. With a shaky exhaled breath, he put his foot forward and began to stumble up the stairs to the giant castle that awaited him…

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><p>As soon as Harry opened the door to the Entrance Hall, he was overcome by the loud noise of hundreds of people scurrying about. The foyer was huge; probably the same square footage as number 4 Privet Drive. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and stain glass windows lined the walls. A grand marble staircase lay on one side of the room and one on the opposite side leading down. Two ornate wooden doors were at the far center of the room, closing off the room to whatever wonders lay behind it.<p>

All around Harry were other students with their trunks and bags, saying hello to other students or kissing and hugging their parents goodbye. For a fleeting moment, Harry wondered what it would be like if his parents were still alive and dropping him off at school. Would they kiss and hug him goodbye?

His thoughts were disrupted when he noticed a tall, narrow, older woman coming towards him. Small squares glasses sat upon her crooked nose and a slight grin crossed her face. Harry recognized her as the woman who gave him his audition and the head of the theatre department at Hogwarts, Professor Minerva McGonagall.

The long skirt she wore billowed behind her as she approached him. "Mr. Potter, so nice to see you," she said as she came to stand in front of him.

"Nice to see you as well," Harry stammered, a bit intimidated by the woman who had had a long, outstanding career in the world of theatre from Broadway to West End productions. "How did you remember my name?" he questioned a little surprised that she had. He didn't think he stood out that much.

"I remember all of the students we admit to this school," she explained in tone that suggested it was not to be debated. Harry simply nodded and flashed her a tight smile to meet the smirk that now bloomed across her own face. "I came over to tell you that the other freshman students are gathering by the grand staircase and we would like you to join them," she continued in a business-like voice, "You can put your baggage in the far corner of the room with the others. They will be deposited into your dorm by the staff here at Hogwarts."

"Thank you," Harry muttered graciously, giving her another small, nervous smile before heading over to put his trunk down and then gathering with the other freshman.

As Harry emerged upon the group of about fifty freshmen by the staircase, he was dismayed to notice that none of them appeared to be as anxious and uneasy as he was. On the contrary, they were all bubbling with excitement, eagerly chit chatting with one another. Harry stood on the outside of the group, watching all of them in expensive clothing interact with one another. Already he felt like an outsider.

Until, one girl came up to his side, a bright, friendly smile on her face. "Hello, are you a new student here to?"

Harry turned towards her, meeting her chocolate eyes and frizzy brunette hair with his emerald orbs and dark locks. "Er…yeah," he mumbled, looking down at his worn trainers.

"Thought so," she said cheerfully, letting out a light chuckle, "you seemed a bit lost."

Harry's face turned red in embarrassment at the fact that this girl could already tell he didn't know what he was doing. _Great!_

Sensing his discomfort and timidity, she moved onto a new topic of introducing herself with a held out hand. "Well, I'm Hermione Granger."

Harry looked up from the floor then to meet her welcoming smile, tentatively shaking her delicate hand. "I'm Harry Potter."

"Nice to meet you Harry," she said vivaciously, dropping his hand gently.

"You as well." Harry attempted to give her a genuine smile of his own, expressing his gratitude for her coming over to talk to him.

"So what are planning on majoring in here?" Hermione asked in authentic curiosity.

Though he was hesitant at first to answer her question, wary of her reaction to his answer, Harry was really just happy that someone was nice enough to attempt to make conversation with him. "Um…theatre," he muttered.

"Oh that's great!" Hermione exclaimed, clapping her hands together in exuberance. "I'm majoring in that as well. We'll probably have classes together."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Harry said, letting the girl's infectious smile overtake him. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. It seemed as if he had already met one friend.

And then, a question of his past came up. "Where are you from?" she asked politely, but not hiding her curiosity.

_So much for having a friend_, Harry thought. _She'll turn right around as soon as she figures out I don't come from a family with a lot of money and I didn't go to a fancy art school. _"Um," Harry started hesitantly, looking down at his trainers again in distress, "Little Whinging, Surrey."

She seemed to take that in for a moment before saying with a nod, "Yes, I believe I know where that is. It's a small town not too far from London right?"

"Er, yeah," Harry mumbled, "So where are you from?"

"Well," Hermione started and Harry could already tell it would be a long tale that would far surpass his experiences. "I was born here in London. Both of my parents were involved in the theatre here; my mum a choreographer for a few West End shows and my dad a casting director. I started dancing here when I was little, but we had to move to Paris when I was six because my mum got a great job offer to be a choreographer for an esteemed ballet company there. I had always been around the theatre when I was little and I guess that's how I picked up a love for it. I enrolled in an acting school while in Paris and took singing lessons as well. I became a member of a theatre company and started doing many plays and musicals, many of which were in French. I went to an art school there for high school and then decided to come here for college to get a degree in theatre."

Harry could only stare at her in astonishment. To say the girl had great experience in the world of theatre would be an understatement. She had been exposed to it since she was baby. If this is what her life had been like, what could the rest of the student's lives have been like before coming here? One could only imagine. "Wow," Harry began, not hiding his awe, "That's awesome."

"Thanks," she replied flashing a proud smile. "So how did you become involved in acting?"

"Oh," Harry stuttered tentatively, looking back down to the floor in humiliation. "I didn't start till I was in high school and just did some local productions; nothing big."

She didn't seem at all surprised by this nor disgusted. Instead, she only nodded her head and said thoughtfully, "Oh, I didn't know they even had theatres in Little Whinging. That's great! So, what are your ambitions?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked in puzzlement.

"I mean like where you want to be in life in ten years, kind of thing. What are your hopes after graduating from here?"

Harry honestly wasn't quite sure. He never really thought about it too much. Theatre and acting had always been just a way for him to escape from his reality. It offered him a sort of comfort that he never received at home. With acting, he could become whatever character he wanted to be, escaping the small, lonely boy named Harry. He had just chosen theatre as a major because it was something he loved to do and couldn't picture himself doing anything else. "Well, I guess I just want to become a professional actor and go from there. How about you?

This seemed to be the question Hermione was waiting for, for she jumped into her tale with bubbling excitement. "I definitely want to stay in the world of theatre and not go anywhere near the film industry. I know a lot of students here go on to that or have started there, but that world just isn't for me. My dream is to become a performer on the West End and on Broadway. I know many actors don't make it that far, but my hope is that I can become one who does. I'll probably start by auditioning for national tours of musicals or working on a few plays in London in the hopes that those will get me closer to the West End and then to Broadway."

Harry could only stare at her in despair. She had a whole life plan of where she wanted to be, and from what he noticed of this girl so far, he could bet his life on it that she would end up accomplishing her whole plan. Harry, on the other hand, was probably lucky if he even graduated and made it through a year with these people. Once again, Harry got the feeling that he didn't belong here.

He turned to see the great wooden doors at the far end of the room opening to the Great Hall and staff members ushering the group of freshman inside. Hermione turned to grab his arm to lead him with her and he could only trudge along hopelessly, looking up at the giant room they were now entering in awe. Despite the overwhelming amount of people in the room and Hermione's gentle hand on his arm, leading him, Harry couldn't help but feel completely and utterly alone and lost. How would he ever survive this place…?

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Draco will be coming in next chapter, so stay tuned...<strong>

**Please review and let me know what you think! It also gives me more incentive to write! I'm still trying to think of a new title. I'm not completely satisfied with this one, so let me know if you have any good suggestions!**

**Follow me on twitter or livejournal! (links located on my profile)**

****14 days till Deathly Hallows Part 2!****


	3. Part Two: 2

A/N: I know, I haven't updated this in about two months. Summer was actually busy for me. I worked too much. I go back to school tomorrow, but I figured I owed everyone this! I will try my best to update while school's going on, but no promises! I think I have some hard courses and work is still going till October. I will certainly try my best though! I'm thinking that I will actually have more time now.

Anyways, you meet Draco in this and the story is just getting started! It's about 12,000 words already and will probably be at least 100,000 in the end. Got a ways to go though!

I started this yesterday, because really, what else is there to do in a hurricane? Hope all of you who live on the east coast didn't get hit too badly! We didn't suffer too badly from Irene over here.

Sorry if my grammar is atrocious. I have poor editing skills. I need a beta to help me edit and to help me with Britishisms, as am I not British no matter how much I may wish it at times or how many times a day I speak in an impersonation of their accent! Any takers?

There will be some original characters in this. Two of which are mentioned in this chapter. None of them will be at all central to the story. I simply needed bodies.

**Disclaimer: All characters and original ideas belong to J. K. Rowling and her affiliates. I only play with them in a way that JKR would probably be appalled by (:**

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><p><strong>Part Two<strong>

~Chapter 2~

_The Welcoming Feast _

Trumpets blared and drums sounded across the giant hall with chants of ceremonial music being played by a live symphony. Rows upon rows of chandeliers lined the room's archways, illuminating the gothic room in bouts of golden light, the stained glass windows glimmering rainbows. Four tables of deep mahogany spanned the length of the hall, leading to a table at the far end upon a stage. All around the Great Hall, students clamored over the benches and tables till they were lining the walls, leaving a path cleared in the center that lead directly to the platform and grand table at the end of the large room. The students clapped and cheered as the procession of new freshman students made their way down the center aisle.

Harry stuck as close to Hermione as he could, her hand still on his arm, feeling his anxiety heightened by the loud cheering going on by the older students. To him, their smiles of glee were not at all as welcoming as they were supposed to offer. Instead, they only caused intimidation and embarrassment to overtake him. He felt as though he were a monkey in a zoo, the gazes that lingered on him unsettling. He could not look around and meet them in the eye as the rest of the freshman did in awe. He could only look down at the floor and hug close to Hermione as she guided him deeper into the chaos.

Eventually, the freshman students all came to a stop and stand still in front of the grand table in which members of the staff were seated at. Harry still could not look up, trying his best to block out the ongoing ovations from the crowd. To say that he was overwhelmed would be an understatement.

"Isn't it wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed next to him, letting her hand fall from his arm. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

Harry could not answer her; for if he did he would have to come face to face with the sense of foreboding the students' cheers and the symphony's processional music gave him. Harry doubted she noticed anyway. She was too busy marveling at the exquisite beauty of the ancient, medieval fortress they now stood in.

The noise began to quiet down and Harry new that the Headmaster must have gotten up to speak his welcoming address. As soon as the hall was silent, Harry allowed himself to tear his eyes away from the floor and his tattered trainers to look at the Headmaster.

The man stood up at the head table on the raised platform, towering over the other staff members seated and the whole student body who's eyes were all focused on him. He smiled warmly to all of his onlookers with a twinkling in his bright blue eyes. He wore a suit of deep purple velvet that spoke of nobility and a pair of spectacles sat upon his hooked nose.

"Welcome back my fine students to another year at Hogwarts School of the Arts," he began, his deep voice echoing around the room for all ears to hear. "I am pleased to see that you have not lost your enthusiasm or spirit over the summer," he continued, earning a hearty chuckle to be released from several of the room's occupants. "And to those new students this year," he began again, looking pointedly down at the group of freshman students gathered in front of him, "welcome to our magnificent school! I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. Here, you will receive extraordinary opportunities in your chosen field of art and also get to explore many other areas."

The Headmaster went on about the many opportunities the school offered its' students and Harry couldn't help but be somewhat entranced by his words. His warm voice served as a reminder to him of why he was there; to fulfill his dream of becoming proficient in the dramatic arts. With this reminder, he felt the tension in his nerves begin to decrease. The Headmaster's kind words drove away some of his fears for the moment.

"Here, you find yourself in the Great Hall, which serves primarily as meeting hall for all of the students and staff," Dumbledore spoke, waving his arms in the air in acknowledgement of the great room that held them. "All meals are held here, as well as many important functions throughout the year. The Great Hall is a place where all houses and teachers can gather together." The man paused his speech for effect to look back into the excited eyes of each of the freshman. "You will be shown around the rest of the school later by your house prefects and will get the chance to explore this enormous castle within the next few days. However, now it is time that we divide our new students into their prospective houses and without further ado, I'd like to welcome Professor McGonagall, Headmistress to the school and also Head of the Dramatic and Theatrical Arts House, to speak to you."

Clapping and cheering filled the room as Professor Dumbledore took his seat at the head of the Staff Table and Professor McGonagall walked up the steps to the platform from where she stood with the freshman.

As soon as she reached the top of the stage, silence overtook the room as everyone waited to hear her words. "Thank you Headmaster," she began in her kind, but stern voice. "Houses are what separate each student from their peers. Our houses have students grouped by their chosen field of art, whom they will share most of their classes and time with. There are forty students to each house, no more and no less, ten from each class. We have four houses here at Hogwarts; the House of Music, the House of the Visual Arts, the House of Dance, and the House of the Dramatic and Theatrical Arts. Each house occupies one area of the castle with it's own common room and dorms. All students eat in the Great Hall, but must sit with their house. Students are only allowed in their own house territory and cannot go into another, even common rooms. If you wish to interact with students from another house, there are plenty of recreational rooms inside the castle as well as the library and the city outside. All students are allowed to leave the school whenever they wish, as long as it is not during class time and they are back before curfew. Curfews will be explained later to you by your house prefects. There are two prefects for every house, one male and one female, both of whom are seniors. They are there to offer help when needed and also to make sure that the members of their house follow all rules. Rules will be explained to you later by your prefects. Also, each house has a designated Head of House who is one of our staff members. They are teachers with a vast experience in the field of art represented by their house. Our Head of Houses include Professor Filius Flitwick for the House of Music, Professor Pomona Sprout for the House of the Visual Arts, Professor Severus Snape for the House of Dance, and myself for the House of the Dramatic and Theatrical Arts. As Heads of Houses, we will be there to listen to any of our students who seek our help, to enforce rules, and to offer guidance in aiding students in mapping their career after Hogwarts. Now," McGonagall said loudly, pausing to gather everyone's attention for the most important part of her time up on stage. "It is time to introduce our new students to their houses and their prefects. Returning students, please take your seats at your house tables and prefects, please join me on the stage."

McGonagall stopped speaking as the commotion of students trying to get where they were instructed to be overtook the room. Harry felt anticipation and anxiety creep through his veins once again at the prospect of meeting the other students in his house. Of course he knew which house he would be in, and he did know that Hermione would be with him, but he was especially nervous about how his dorm mates would react to him. Did they come from a world like Hermione where they were exposed to the theatre before the age of one? Were they homophobic?

Professor McGonagall began pointing out the other three Heads of Houses among the teachers as the prefects began making their way onto the stage. Harry thought the one who was Head of the House of Dance, Professor Snape, looked rather intimidating and frightening and was instantly glad he would not belong to that House.

McGonagall cleared her throat sharply to direct everyone's attention back to her once all of the prefects had taken their positions on the stage. "Now, that we have our prefects gathered here, it is time to call of you new students up to stand with them. I will introduce the prefects of each house and then begin calling your names. Once your name is called, you will come up here and stand with the two prefects of your house and the other freshman in your house."

Harry began to scan the prefects that were lined up on the stage, each standing with the other from their house in one particular spot on the platform. His eyes made it to the third group of prefects standing on the right, and at once, his breath caught in his throat and his blood quickened. His eyes were glued to the boy who stood proudly as the prefect of the House of Dance and heat rushed from his face downwards. This boy was quite possibly the most beautiful man Harry had ever seen; a man that would be the center of everyone's innocent or erotic fantasies. His short, wispy bleach blonde hair framed his face; the soft locks alleviating the sharpness presented by his structured jaw line. The body that belonged to him was well sculpted, a carefully chiseled statue displaying Adonis-like beauty. He was tall, thin, and well muscled, but not bulky and Harry felt as if he would give anything in that moment to run his hands over the silky pale skin pulled taut over his exposed muscled bicep.

However, the boy's most prominent feature was the startling blue eyes that looked out at the crowd beneath him, shining with a hard power and pride. The deep blue orbs were both intimidating and alluring. They were eyes one could simply get lost in, lusting after their beauty. However, there was still a trace of inspired fear from a danger within, as if their owner would show no mercy. The young man's whole physique screamed power, dominance, danger, and seduction, but there was still a soft, innocent, and angelic air to him. Harry was drawn to both conflicting parts of the boy and he knew that he would never be able to get the image he presented out of his mind and dreams for a very long time.

The part of Harry's mind that consciously knew what was going on around him vaguely realized that he had missed McGonagall calling the boy's name as one of the prefects. He had also missed the introduction of the rest of the prefects including his own. Now, McGonagall was calling the names of the new students in the House of Dance, having already called the names of students for the Houses of Music and the Visual Arts. Harry watched in wonderment and envy as the handsome young man offered his hand to the new students of the House of Dance as they climbed up the steps to stand upon the stage with him and the other female prefect. He gave every new student a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and stood with a manner grace that commanded respect. Harry suddenly wished that he belonged to the House of Dance, despite his fears of the ominous Professor Snape, if only just to be near the beauty who now plagued his mind.

Finally, it was time for Harry and the rest of the House of the Dramatic and Theatrical Arts to make their way up onto the stage to stand with their prefects. Harry tore his eyes away from the boy to watch his housemates get called to the stage and felt his nerves increase at the prospect of walking by the blue-eyed beauty to stand with his own house.

"Lavender Brown," McGonagall called and the first of the House of the Dramatic and Theatrical Arts made her way up on the stage to be greeted by the two prefects. She continued calling the names Celia Cartier, Seamus Finnegan, Hermione Granger, Elaina Larson, Neville Longbottom, and Parvarti Patil until she got to Harry Potter.

Harry froze as soon as he heard his name called and could not make his feet move up to the stage. He felt everyone's eyes fall on him and once again felt like a monkey at a zoo. To make matters worst, he felt the sharp stare of the blonde-haired boy's eyes glare daggers through him. One of the remaining freshmen next to him, one with dark skin and dark hair, shoved him with a quick mutter of "Go on!"

Harry had no choice but to stumble his way up the steps to the stage, blushing profusely. He looked down at his trainers the whole time, praying that he wouldn't trip over his own feet and fall on his face. He only lifted his face once on his way up and that was to meet the face of the beautiful boy who gave him a leering smirk with a hint of curiosity setting fire in his cool eyes. His face flaming even redder, Harry tore his eyes away from the boy and brought them back down to his sneakers. He shyly shook his prefects' hands and only looked up again when he reached the comforting smile of Hermione.

Soon the rest of the House of the Dramatic and Theatrical Arts names were called and all of the prefects were leading their new freshman to their house tables to tuck into supper. As Harry walked off the stage, he looked back to glimpse the boy leading the freshmen of his own house across the room to their table. When the boy didn't look back, he was disappointed that he would not get to glimpse those stunning eyes again but relieved that he would not have to face humiliation again when the boy looked back at him in disgust.

At the table, Harry took a seat next to Hermione who was already busy chatting to a girl, Celia, with short, dirty blonde hair. On his other side, was a tall boy with freckles and bright ginger hair. As soon as Harry turned to look at him, the boy gave him a broad, friendly smile.

"Ron Weasley," he said, sticking out a hand for Harry to shake.

"Harry Potter," he mumbled, shaking the outstretched hand and giving him the friendliest smile that he could muster in return.

"Where you from?" Ron asked as he dropped Harry's hand.

"Surrey," Harry answered tentatively. He felt like it was the beginning of the earlier conversation with Hermione all over again. "How about yourself?"

"Devon, right out in the countryside," he said proudly. "Mum had big hopes and dreams for all of us though. She wanted us to do something special with our lives. So we all came here." He nodded down the table where a group of redheads, hair the same shade as his own, sat grouped together, talking animatedly to some of the other students. "That's some of them down there; Percy, Fred and George," Ron continued. "Bill graduated a few years back and Charlie just last year. Bill's over in America, touring in an ensemble of Gypsy and Charlie's here in London, doing lighting and sound for a production on the West End starting in a couple of months. Ginny's just a year behind me, but she'll be coming here as well."

Harry looked at the other redheads and knew that they all must be pretty talented to get into the school. It was hard enough for one person to get accepted to Hogwarts, but a whole a generation of a family getting in was pretty amazing. "Wow, guess it runs in your family then," Harry replied, a bit in awe. He knew he should probably be intimidated by a family of this size at the school, but in actuality he wasn't. There was something friendly and kind written on Ron's face as well as on the rest of the Weasleys', and Harry was instead comforted by it.

"Sure does. My mum and dad both came here," he said casually as if it wasn't even close to such a great thing. "So what about you? Your family come here? Any siblings?"

Harry hesitated, not knowing what to expose to the friendly boy he just met. However, he seemed nice enough to Harry and maybe one of the only people here who wouldn't judge him. "I don't really know where my parents went to school," he started tentatively. "They died in a car crash when I was one. I've been living with my aunt and uncle since."

He just nodded, a look of sympathy for his parent's death crossing his face. "They never mentioned it?" he asked curiously, a bit taken aback by the fact that his relatives would never mention something so important about his parents.

"No, they didn't…like my parents much," Harry answered cautiously, wishing not to divulge anymore secrets just yet.

"Oh." Ron seemed to understand and left Harry's answer alone and instead inquired, "So no siblings then?"

"Nope," Harry responded with a shake of his head, his messy hair flying around his face. "I grew up with my cousin, but he's going to a community college back in Surrey."

Ron didn't respond anything in return, only nodded silently. Then, several waiters made their ways to each of the tables, placing dishes upon dishes of food on them. As soon as they did, students were grabbing and swiping things off of the dishes to put onto their own, like Ron who didn't waste a moment before shoving food onto his plate and into his mouth. There were dishes of fish and several different meats, as well as an assortment of vegetables, fruits, and bread.

Unlike the other boys in his house, Harry ate his food slowly, instead, concentrating his gaze on the blonde boy across the room who was currently consuming a peach. Harry could feel his mouth begin to water as he watched the boy's lips close gently around the fruit, suckling in its' juice as it dripped down his chin. Harry began to feel a stirring in his lower regions and had to look away in order to avoid humiliation at the dinner table.

Ron was busy in conversation with the two boys sitting across from them, Dean and Seamus, so Harry turned to Hermione who was no longer talking to Celia.

He saw that her chocolate brown eyes were narrowed, looking over at the dancers' table and at one dancer in particular: the beautiful blond hair, blue-eyed male.

Noticing her gaze, Harry asked her sheepishly, "Who is that?"

"Who?" she replied curiously, turning to look at Harry.

"That prefect over at the dancers' table with the blond hair," Harry said, trying to keep the blossoming blush off of his cheeks as he saw a tongue dart out of the blonde's mouth to lick the peach's juice off of his lips.

"Oh, that's Draco Malfoy," she said scowling.

"Why?" he asked carefully, sensing the anger and upset in her voice, "What's wrong with him?"

"Well, nothing except that he's a lying, cheating, violent, arrogant son of a—"

"What, why?" Harry asked in alarm, cutting off her foul words.

She sighed and took a deep breath before continuing, her voice now even and all the anger gone. "He's a dancer; a professional one at that. He's been in competitions since he was seven. He's been to the finest dance schools and learned about every type of dance imaginable. He's won competitions for tango, ballroom dancing, rumbas, sambas, hip-hop, lyrical, tap, jazz, character, everything. My mother was his choreographer for a short while when he was new to competing. He even toured with a pop artist as a backup dancer one summer. He's probably the youngest dancer to ever have that much success."

Harry was flabbergasted by Draco's success. He also felt disappointment and humiliation creep into his system as he knew Draco would never give him the time of day. However, his distress did not quell the intrigue Draco posed for him nor the attraction. "So then what's so bad about him?"

"Just about everything," Hermione exclaimed, the anger and disgust back and evident on her face. "He's rude, obnoxious, cruel, and awfully full of himself. He was horrible to my mother when she was his choreographer. He's cheated in competitions, seducing women in order to find out information about other competitors, lying when questioned. One of my friends, a student of my mum's, was one of the women he seduced to gain information. He used to compete in partner competitions, you know with tango, rumba, and samba, but now he only does solo. He sabotaged his partner, wanting the glory all for himself, tarnishing her reputation so she couldn't compete anymore. But that's not the worst of it. Last spring, he came in second to one of his top competitors, Viktor Krum from Russia, in the international dance competition. It was the first time he lost in years and the first time losing to Krum. After the competition, he attacked Krum outside. The next day, Krum was found dead in a nearby river, stabbed to death. There was no proof that Malfoy did it. He had an alibi. He had flown from Russia back to England as soon as the competition was over. However, that doesn't mean he had nothing to with it."

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine as he stared at the blond who was now conversing with a few of his friends. According to Hermione, the angel he had found himself irresistibly attracted to was not the angel he had thought he was. When he first glimpsed Draco, he knew that the blond seemed somewhat dangerous, but not to the extent Hermione was speaking about. He tore his eyes and turned to Hermione. "What happened to Malfoy? After the competition?"

She shrugged her shoulders and answered coolly, "He was arrested for attacking Krum, but let out on bail. His family's filthy rich. He was almost expelled from school. They had a hearing, but since the incident had nothing to do with Hogwarts, they let him stay. However, he's still under close watch by the headmaster."

Harry nodded and turned back to his lock eyes on Malfoy, still ogling at his beauty. Somehow, the stories Hermione told him only made Malfoy seem more mysterious, more appealing. Harry felt as if Draco was a man of secrets with hidden truths and pasts, making Harry even more curious about this boy. He now felt an even stronger urge to get to know this man and discover the truth of him.

Hermione must have saw the meaning of Harry's gaze for she exclaimed in warning, "Harry you must not get involved with him. He's dangerous and so is his family! There's…rumors…that Malfoy's family is connected to the mob. It's not been proven and no one's been convicted of any crimes, but it's rather suspicious. People can get hurt because of them. I've seen it happen, please Harry, just leave Draco alone."

Harry did not want to hear more of her warnings of the evilness inside Draco and his family. In his rational mind, he knew he should let this fascination with Draco go. He didn't know who Draco was and he was in no position to get to know him, a man who was more or less the champion of his own art. Coupled with the fact that he and his family were violent and dangerous, Harry knew that this obsession would be no good for him. He had to focus on school, the reason why he was here after all. It would not do to get caught up in Draco's mystery. With a slow nod, he answered Hermione with a resigned "I won't."

She nodded glumly, seeing the conflict in Harry's eyes, and turned back to Celia. Harry looked back up at the mysterious blue-eyed boy, Draco Malfoy. This time, Draco looked up and caught his eyes and Harry felt something that he couldn't quite place. Draco's face was expressionless, but there was some type of passionate fire that burned behind his brilliant blue eyes, a fire that was echoed back in Harry's own emerald eyes. He felt a pull to this boy and he couldn't look away. And that was when he knew. He was lost. He couldn't simply walk away from the chance of discovering more about this man. There was an invisible force inside him, pulling him to Draco and he wouldn't be able to relax until he found out more. Harry realized that he was left in fate's hands now and Draco was there tempting him for a reason, though for what reason, Harry didn't know. He just knew that he needed to discover more about this man.

Draco's gaze broke his as he turned back to his friends as if nothing unusual happened and Harry's breath came back to him. Somehow, no matter how dangerous it was, he would get to know the intriguing man Draco was and unravel the mystery set before him, if only so he would be able to get some sleep at night…

_To be continued..._

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><p>Hope you enjoyed and I hope I kept everyone in character! Please review and tell me what you think! Many of you have this on your story alerts and thank you so much for that, but please review as well! Thanxx!<p>

You can follow me on twitter, tumblr, or livejournal (links on my profile) for updates. Tumblr is probably your best bet as I am on there daily.

Thank youu! xx

P.S.- Anyone know any good archives to post this on? Like slash archives? I know a bunch for Snarry fanfics because I am an avid Snarry reader, but none for Drarry fics.


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